Pages

7.1.07

with a razor.

I'm sitting upstairs in the office and I've turned it into a time machine. I wrapped the whole place in tin foil and pictures cut out of dirty magazines. All the antennas from the house and most of the cars on the block are making the mother reciever in the corner and;

Sorry, I'm just listening to music I made with some friends over the last 14 years. Some of them aren't friends anymore, but that happens. I thought it would be a good idea to listen to where I've been as I charge forward. I'm not as pleased or as disappointed with it as I thought I'd be. I'm pleased with Pat and I have to credit him as responsible for any aesthetic that's evolved (set) in me over this time. As proud as I am of what I've written, I'm equally embarassed. I hope I'm improving at this whole writing songs thing. I guess it takes a lot of time to get good at anything- thank god I've got forever.

Jeebus, Lime was slow. Puff, puff, gag, puff. Some drinks last night. All this looking back is not like me. I'll call it research lest I get all shitheady and nostalgic. All in all I think I have an expressive voice, not a good one. But I kinda need it to be a little more of both, now. Sell the song and stay somewhere in the neighborhood of on key-more harmonies now than then.

All this took place before my love started with either Cheryl or the mandolin, I have to bring as much of this dumb story in to Tony's. I always try to not look back, I haven't listened to these songs in years, but if I forget I failed.